A Smidgen Of Slytherin
by Fanatical Alice
Summary: Six short drabbles. It begins with "You want to know who has a nice ass?" and ends with an unexpected invitation.
1. Jokes

_~There is a place you can touch a woman that will drive her crazy. Her heart.~_

_Melanie Griffith_

* * *

_._

"You want to know who has a nice ass?" Blaise smirked. The teeth he cleaned so religiously flashed in the dim light as his sultry lips curled. He wore the same lecherous look that Theo hated so dearly.

Theo glared pointedly and replied with a simple, but venomous, "_No_."

Blaise, who was never one to read the atmosphere, continued on with his lame joke. "Daphne Greengr_ass_." Laying plenty of emphasis on the '_ass_.' Theodore wanted to personally tear his ears from his head and shove the bloodied flesh down Blaise's throat. However he refrained from doing so and continued to give Blaise no reaction whatsoever.

But later that same day, after careful examination on his part... Theo couldn't help but agree.

.

* * *

**notenotenote; so these are going to be a collection of drabbles, i don't own Harry Potter, or any of the quotes i picked off the internet, and so on:) thanks for reading!**


	2. Dwindle

_~Be open. And then the truth follows.~_

* * *

_._

Draco always assumed he had a firm grip on his patience. He put up with Crabbe and Goyle, who couldn't think their way out of a cardboard box, on a daily bases. He handled Blaise's seduction techniques with an iron fist. For Salazar's sake, he listened to _Pansy_ squawk in his ear day in and day out, and managed to hold onto his sanity. So what was it that caused him to utterly _snap_ at that particular moment?

He was in the common room. Murky green shadows danced alongside the candlelight, the hearth crackled forlornly, the scratching of quills over last minute assignments. Draco grit his teeth. Beside him Pansy gossiped with Daphne, freely talking of Millicent Bulstrode – who sat not five feet away and could surely hear every ill spoken word. He watched her carefully; and saw her pudgy knuckles gradually whiten into clenched fists as the conversation took a particularly nasty turn.

"…I mean has she ever heard of _dieting_? Merlin."

Daphne snickered. "Sh! Sh! Maybe she's, like, pregnant or something-!"

"Who the hell would knock up _that_ pig?" Pansy shrieked with laughter and her blonde companion followed suit. A handful of keen eared listeners openly snickered.

Millicent hastily gathered her things together, fingers stumbling clumsily in her hurry. Her lips were tugged in a deep frown, but from what Draco could see, the girl's eyes remained clear and focused. As if she were used to the verbal abuse.

"Oh," Pansy whined, about as false as the eyelashes she magically lengthened every morning, "Where are you going Millie darl-!"

"_Shut up_."

_There_. He felt it. The last threads of patience finally dwindling away, slipping through his fingers. He leapt to his feet so violently the armchair jerked back.

"What was that Draco?" Pansy simpered.

"_Shut up._" the serpent withering inside of him spat viciously. "_You make me sick._"

Draco stormed out of the common room. Felt their eyes burn holes into the back of his neck. Heard Daphne trying to hopelessly sooth Pansy's hysterics (_"But he…he's mad at me!"_). Blaise cheered mockingly after him (_"You go girl!"_).

Millicent didn't say a word when he brushed past her.

****.


	3. Uncertainly Pure

_~A careless word may kindle strife._

_A cruel word may wreck a life._

_A timely word may level stress._

_But a loving word may heal and bless.~_

* * *

_._

He was a clumsy man, Harfang was, but refreshingly charming, and in such an honest and simple way that people drew naturally towards him – _even_ the pretentious Callidora Black. The daunting Callidora Black. She was a beautiful thing, with her dark curls and hooded eyes, and that curvaceous body that drove men of all sorts wild from desire. However the woman's personality was another story. She was bitter, to say the least. Bitter and outright disdainful. About as cruel as her father - it was often whispered amongst social gatherers - and everyone sympathized with the poor Crouch man engaged to her. They were a sour faced couple. And they would have made quite the humorous pair had they not been so utterly terrifying.

But it was said Harfang must have came along and drugged the woman with a love potion for sake of the sudden turn of events.

The thought of Callidora loving anything but her own reflection was so utterly _atrocious_ most assumed the cancelled engagement to Caspar Crouch, and the fresh wedding invitations, to be a hoax.

But the invitations were indeed real, as was the affection that drew both Callidora Black and Harfang Longbottom together in the most uncertainly pure of ways.

Callidora lay blissful in her husband's arms, strong and warm, lean and protective. She closed her eyes and murmured almost to herself. "I think… I now understand why Cedrella risked her status for that blood traitor Weasley..."

"Do you?" Harfang whispered. He ran his fingers through her tangled locks and she shivered deliciously.

Callidora sighed and nodded confidently into his chest. "If it were for this thing called 'love', I'm most certain I would do anything. And Cedrella and I are more the same then naught."

.


	4. Contentment

_~The family is a haven in a heartless world.~_

* * *

_._

Eight year old Daphne Greengrass loved listening to her parents speak. Their accents lay heavy on their tongues, pompous and rich, filling whichever room they resided in.

She curled in her father's lap. A perfect fit. He stroked her hair and murmured softly to her mother, who in turn cradled Astoria as the hearth crackled. Warm on their cheeks, it cast the parlor in a friendly golden glow that made her think of the proud, roaring lions in her fairytales. Daphne's eyelids would flutter shut. Her belly full. Her family close and comforting. The old stonewalls of her home sheltering them from the wicked winds that howled outside, like they had for so many more before her time.

When she was eight years old, oblivious little Daphne Greengrass knew the true meaning of 'contentment.'

.


	5. Vampire?

_~Children's games are hardly games. Children are never more serious then when they play.~_

* * *

_._

Why was Mommy yelling at Bella again? The wicked woman's shrill wail echoed throughout the entire mansion, making it impossible to concentrate on anything but the raw expression. Daddy yelled at her to shut up from the bottom of the stairs, just leave Bella be for Merlin's sake! And Mommy would scream back at the top of her lungs – _"Don't you tell me to shut up you bastard!" _And Narcissa would huddle with Andromeda in the doorway and listen to the repetitive exchange. Did Mommy and Daddy hate each other? Why were they so mean to Bella? Why?

Their dark haired sister stalked out of the bathroom. Her hands were stained bloody. Narcissa gasped and dashed out from under Andromeda's comforting arm. "Bella! What did you do?"

Bellatrix Black observed her sister through a pair of haughty eyes that didn't belong on a ten year old, but strangely suited her dusky features. "I wanted to see what blood tasted like Cissy." And Bellatrix Black grinned a feral grin. She shoved her hand in Narcissa's face. "Would you like to try?"

Narcissa yelped. She jerked away from Bellatrix's hand – but not without glimpsing a drop on the very tip of her tongue. An uncontrollable fit of shivers wracked down her young spine at the copper taste.

"Disgusting brats," Druella muttered behind them. Narcissa heard her mother stomp back down the staircase. It didn't take long for the woman to engage her husband in yet another vicious battle of scratches and bruises. But Narcissa was to consumed by shock to care at all about her parents.

"So?" Bellatrix sneered. "What do you think Cissy? Are you a vampire?"

"It's _cold_," was all she could manage.

Bellatrix Black. For that ferocious woman, the term 'cold blooded' could only be taken literally.

.


	6. Accepted

_~Life always offers you a second chance. It's called tomorrow.~_

* * *

_._

Daphne stared hard at her reflection and winced. She was ugly. No two ways about it. Make up smeared down her cheeks, distorting her features and giving her a particularly haggard appearance. Could you blame her really? She'd been called a slut six times in one day. Even by her own circle of 'friends'. They didn't say anything, of course – she was still a Greengrass, slut or not - but she could see it in their eyes when they thought she wasn't looking, hear it on their lips when she walked away and they assumed she was out of earshot. Another tear tumbled down her cheek. Was she really so detestable? So hated? Was it all her fault? It couldn't be! It wasn't like she was the _only_ girl at Hogwarts who dropped her panties a little to low.

She scowled and spun away from the mirror. _This is stupid_. The girls' dormitory was quiet. Everyone was probably still listening to the professors drone on and on…it was still mid afternoon after all. But after being sneered at by so many students Daphne hadn't felt much like attending class. She wondered if this was it for her. If screwing around with that flabby lipped Ravenclaw, who was intent on describing the finer details of their night together to anyone willing to listen, really _was_ the last straw.

"Daphne?" a gruff voice startled her out of her misery.

She spun around, completely forgetting about her present state, and snapped. "_What_?"

Milicent Bulstrode stood in the doorway. She didn't show any sign of intimidation - regardless of the relentless bullying Daphne had laid on her over the years. The broad shouldered girl merely shrugged. "Nothing. I guess."

Daphne stood proud in the middle of the room, tears streaming down her high cheekbones, as Milicent shuffled to her trunk and dug around for her text books. The two girls didn't say a word.

But the next day it was Milicent who invited Daphne Greengrass to sit with her at breakfast.

And she accepted.

.


End file.
